In Loving Grace
by mimire
Summary: Familiarity breeds love, and Athrun is no different. AU. YAOI. AC/AK.


**Title:** In Loving Grace (Formerly, _Tilt_)  
**Warnings:** AU, Shonen-Ai, angst, random/inexplicit mention of GSD characters  
**Synopsis:** The parallels between Cagalli and Kira are undeniable, but Athrun undoubtedly loves each separate from the other.  
**Disclaimer:** _Gundam Seed_ and its characters belong to their respective creators; nothing in relation to either belongs to me.

* * *

Eyes easily straying towards the slightest of movements outside, Athrun faintly regrets his decision to sit at the window. It is a decision made in haste, to avoid fawning girls who disguised advances as innocent questions regarding class material and assignments. Regardless, neither the option of immersing himself in the sea of students to mask his own disinterest in the lecture nor isolating himself in the front row and placing himself before the vigilant eyes of his professor is a suitable replacement for his need to watch the occasional student run within view across the school grounds, destination made urgent by the heavy downpour and relentless dark clouds overheard.

It is obvious to those that steal a glimpse every now and then that the professor's words do not reach him. Still, it is known fact that should he be called on, he will answer with a quiet, modest confidence before resuming his watch of the world outside. Some envy him for this rare talent. Others simply stare at him to stare. Athrun neither knows nor cares for their thoughts.

A spark of red flashes in the corner of his eye and Athrun shifts slightly to better view the figure hidden beneath the brightly colored umbrella. The red bounces in rhythm with careless steps and when the individual falters slightly on the slick pavement, Athrun finds his lips shift slightly in soft amusement. Across the room, students swoon over the beauty that is their idol. Still, he focuses only on the individual beneath that simple splash of color and the utter lack of care towards the thunderous water seeking shivering bones and cooled flesh.

He follows the stable trek through rain and mud and over rough pavement until all traces are hidden from sight - the only indication of the figure's existence a bright circular burn of color left behind on his eyes when he blinks. And then Athrun, interest waned, turns to face his professor for the remainder of the lecture. He has already wasted enough time, no need to spend the rest of class gazing out the window.

* * *

The burn has long since faded by the time he reaches the quiet corner in the bar, approaching the seated individual quietly and slipping in beside her with ease. He smiles at her startled expression and the brightness that consumes her expression when she sees that it is he.

"Athrun! You're early! I wasn't expecting you for at least another half hour."

"I finished early," he is pleased at her unspoken delight and when a sharp glint of light reflects off the small crimson stone embedded within the silver band resting on her finger, his heart flutters with security and a deeper feeling he is rapidly growing to adore. "I don't want to be here tonight, come with me."

He ignores her slight protests as he pulls her from her seat, guiding her towards the exit and into the chilly night air. When they reach the crosswalk, he turns to study her in the illuminated city block. He loves what he sees in her, he wants to tell her, but in words he cannot find himself to express. Before he can think to stop himself, he bends down to press his lips gently to hers. She is startled at first, but eagerly returns the kiss. When they pull apart, both their faces burn with a flush of pleasant embarrassment but their hands still find one another and fingers intertwine as they make their way across the street.

That night, he loves her tenderly, wondering at his utter luck in finding the perfect compliment to his existence. As she winds her arms around his neck and he feels her bare chest press against him, he sighs in contentment.

"I saw you during class today."

She says nothing at first and he thinks she has fallen asleep until she speaks, confusion obvious in her tone, "Yeah?"

"It was raining. You were walking towards the lecture hall? Near the chapel?"

He blushes when she tells him it could not have been her – she had been trapped in the library all day – and teases him for his wandering eyes. But mostly he laughs to himself as she pushes for more information because he knows what she says in humor is true.

"But, yeah? Go on. What were you going to say?"

If only she knew, he thinks, but he finds himself unable to answer. What was he to say? That he had watched the figure beneath the red umbrella walk with ease in the rain, had laughed when it faltered despite the confidence? That he had been attracted to that color and that his attraction for her had only strengthened, thinking she was hidden beneath the vibrant color? That something had drawn him to that lone figure caught in the storm and he had loved her exceptionally upon sight of it?

"Nothing."

Her reaction is almost immediate. Breaking away from his hold, she stares down at him in defiance, all signs of sleep and contentment a mere shadow behind the burning look in her eyes. "Tell me!" she demands, not liking when he keeps his thoughts secret, but he only smiles, knowing that although they are meant for each other, sometimes she cannot understand what he thinks.

She slaps his shoulder in frustration. But while he knows that she is stubborn, she knows he is that too.

"Athrun!" She pouts, knowing that he both loves and hates when her voice lilts at the end of his name in a whine. Still, he only smiles.

But then she also knows the most sensitive regions of his body and although he knows hers too, her manipulations of this knowledge… Well, _that_ he wishes she had never learned to do.

"Cagalli!"

Her eyes twinkle mischievously at his scandalized protest and suddenly he feels very unlucky.

"Cagalli! _No_ - !"

Her laughter consumes him.

* * *

Athrun is mindful of who his eyes follow these days; he is afraid that one day, he may find another Cagalli and fall in love again. Never mind that his fears are both strange and tenuous because he knows that what he feels for her can never be easily replicated, especially if such an emotion comes from him. Still, he knows she sometimes worries about his status as a god in the eyes of some of the female student body, never really one to notice her own ardent suitors. Or ardent suitor.

He grits his teeth when he thinks of the purple haired monster that always scoffs at him in contempt, likely due to the jealousy he feels over the fact that her eyes are for Athrun only. The thought makes him smile. Cagalli is beautiful and lively and sometimes very clumsy and always hard-headed and as long as he has her, he knows he does not need any of the women who throw themselves at his feet or the boys who praise him in hopes of becoming his friend.

* * *

When he spots the individual eating alone at the far end of the dining hall and the red umbrella braced against the side of his seat - unopened and dripping water onto the carpeted floor - a strange idea strikes him suddenly and he finds himself walking towards the figure, tray in hand and little else in mind as to what to say to the stranger.

"Hey," he feels like a child on his first day of school, eager to make new friends but too shy to do little more than initiate a conversation.

The boy looks up, startled, but greets Athrun with an equally shy welcome, awkward smile bright on his face, "Hi?"

Athrun hesitates before speaking again, "Mind if I join you?"

He watches as eyes quickly flash over the nearly empty room, no doubt taking in the countless empty chairs and tables, before resting on the scattered books and papers on the table and the seat across his own. But all the boy does is smile again, this time with more confidence, "Sure."

Athrun waits patiently as the boy clears the table for him, questioning again what he thinks he is doing and wonders if his intrusion is a bad thing. He slides into the newly emptied place, setting his tray down and extending his hand across the table when he catches the other's gaze. "Athrun Zala," he offers with a grin, hoping he seems friendly enough but pleased that he has evidently already been accepted.

The boy does not hesitate before firmly clasping the presented hand.

"Kira," he says, and the brilliance of the smile that follows is almost touching with its wholesome joy. "Kira Yamato."

* * *

The two step out into the cold, protected from the rain by the overhead and Kira turns to him with the smile Athrun is beginning to think is a vital part the boy's existence, "Ah, well, it was nice meeting you, Athrun."

He nods at him, watching as the boy then turns and releases the umbrella before stepping into the rain. He is quite a distance away before Athrun realizes he recognizes that steady gait, the careless and aimless walk through the rain, and he grins, laughing at the peculiarity of the situation.

He runs into the rain, arms above his head in a futile attempt to keep his clothes dry, "Kira!"

The brunette turns immediately, a questioning look on his face, as if expecting the stranger he had just met and spoken with like long lost best friends to call out to him only moments after their separation. Athrun stops before him, breath coming in soft puffs, and watches him. He does not anticipate his own question.

"Can I have your number?"

The two stand there, surprised - Athrun, startled by his own audacity; Kira, no doubt, startled by the utter peculiarity of the situation. They both blush at what this may seem like but then Kira nods and moves until they both are covered under the umbrella not large enough for two but not small enough for one. "Of course," he says, as if this sort of thing happens everyday, between two male strangers no less. "I was just about to head over to my dorm." And Athrun accepts the unspoken invitation without hesitation, happy to distance himself from the pounding rain that seems a heavy existence in all their lives lately.

Athrun can sense when Kira tilts his head a little to gaze at him from the corner of his eyes as they walk together, studying darkened locks and sharp features and the illumination of the bright red like a halo under the lampposts. He wants to say something even though he wants to preserve the solid comfort of their silence.

"Do you… sometimes… feel like…?"

But the words come out rough and awkward and he does not continue. He thinks what he wants to ask – if he can guess what he wants to say – is too personal or too strange. Words are not a strength for him, always hoping his emotions are potent enough to stand alone. He is startled by the soft voice that responds.

"Mm, I do."

"I see…"

Kira laughs and Athrun joins him soon after.

The two walk the rest of their journey in silence, comforted by the steady shower pounding against the plastic.

* * *

"So. Who's this new friend of yours? I've been hearing you two have been quite inseparable lately."

Cagalli questions him one day and he wonders why he has yet to introduce her to him, wonders why he wants to keep him a secret, almost like his special friend – invisible to all but him. But Kira really is special. He understands him and knows things about him that usually takes one a lifetime to discover. He knows there was a time during which he has never known someone like this before, and yet he can't imagine what it could possibly have been like - moments spent with Kira easily overshadowing all else.

"Kira Yamato. He just transferred here from one of the smaller schools not too far away, so he's not used to the big city life. I've just been showing him around."

"How noble of you, Athrun. You're such a knight in shining armor."

He dismisses her sarcasm with a wave of his hand. "You'll like him," he tells her.

Cagalli snorts at his confidence, but Athrun is right: The two take to one another like siblings separated at birth; Cagalli likes to bully Kira into submission, they learn, and treats him like a younger brother although Athrun never quite understands the specifics behind this development. Kira becomes a welcome fixture in their lives and Athrun rather likes the idea of having his two most important individuals constantly by his side.

* * *

Introducing Kira to his remaining friends becomes more worrisome than introducing Cagalli to his father. He has come a long way in learning to be defiant towards the elder Zala, something that is no doubt the influence of his exposure to this strange world of college life, but the idea of Kira's rejection in the face of his friends hurts him more than he cares to think.

Yzak can be brutally cold and Dearka as well if he so wishes. It is only Nichol who can readily accept anyone but Nichol is long gone and, although Athrun misses him terribly, he has yet to dial the number he already memorized despite never calling. Kira would like Nichol, he believes, so maybe he will. Eventually.

Acceptance does not come so readily but it is a steady growth and Athrun begins to worry less and less. The more the four are together, the less Athrun remembers to watch his behavior around the two that seem to pay such little mind to their antics.

Kira rests against him during the movie, head propped against his shoulder, legs curled beneath him, body growing heavier as he gradually falls into a deep slumber. Athrun stretches along the couch, pulling the sleeping boy along with him until his head pillows against his chest and their legs tangle. It is a comfortable position and he thinks nothing of it until Yzak looks at him strangely at the movie's end.

"I thought you're seeing that blonde girl," it doesn't sound like a question but there is a strange tone of disapproval in his voice that makes Athrun take pause.

Kira's hand is fisted in his shirt, face buried in his neck, knee drawn up almost possessively in a curl around his leg. Athrun looks pointedly at his platinum haired friend, "I am."

Yzak looks like he wants to say something but Dearka jumps from the couch and throws an arm around the other's shoulders, "Never mind him, Athrun. This guy's obviously tired." Protests are loud as he then drags the reluctant boy all the way to the door, calling out wishes for a good night before the door slams and leaves Athrun with a slumbering Kira on his chest.

Sometimes, it is strange to think of how far they have come. Sometimes, it is difficult to accept how he feels. But mostly, sometimes, Athrun likes to pretend nothing has changed.

* * *

He fears for Kira's safety, especially when Cagalli is infuriated.

True, it is not love at first sight, what he and Cagalli have, but Kira's unnecessary laughter only aggravates her already short temper. Not many people know of how the two met. Judging from Kira's reaction, he comes to the conclusion that this is a decidedly good thing.

"It is _not_ funny!" She throws her hands up in frustration when Kira only laughs harder, in danger of rolling from his seat and onto the floor. A glare in Athrun's direction confirms her suspicions that he won't be of any use in subduing the reaction.

"But when I met you!" Kira wheezes in between loud gasps for air and obvious mirth, "I thought you were a boy too!" The last is almost lost in the intense fit of laughter that takes hold of his shaking frame.

With a cry of indignation, Cagalli launches herself at the helpless boy. "I told you! It's – not – funny!"

But Athrun's quiet laughter from behind them only contradicts her statement.

Even now, it amuses him to see the lively girl completely devour the subdued kindness of her newfound friend as Kira begs for Cagalli's forgiveness. But there is a striking resemblance between the two that is apparent even beyond their obvious differences. Sometimes Athrun wants to say this, that they are more alike than they think, but he always stops himself – simply content to observe. Because Kira is beautiful and lively and sometimes very clumsy and always hardheaded and as long as he has him, Athrun stops there.

As long as he has him… then what?

* * *

At one point, Kira admits, although the specific moment is blurred within the context of other times and events and memories established, that he had initially believed Athrun was hitting on him before he met Cagalli. During the confession, Athrun only laughs at his strange behavior from that time that seemed both eons ago and only yesterday. Now, he thinks about, but doesn't comment on, Kira's easy acceptance of this belief and what it might mean.

* * *

He holds his hands, brushes his fingers through his hair, presses his lips to his forehead. He wonders why having a physical presence matters this much. With Cagalli he has never felt the same. With Cagalli it is not about burning passion and need – it is all shyness and wonder and discovery. But things are different between him and Cagalli and he doesn't like to compare because Cagalli is not Kira.

He loves Cagalli.

"If you were a girl," Athrun says one day, careful even now with his thoughts but secure with the knowledge that Kira always knows how to respond - even if his words are sometimes confusing and unsure, they are always honestly spoken. "If you were a girl," he says again, watching hands disappear beneath soapy water before turning back to the cupboard, "You would be my soul mate. And I'd be happy."

He doesn't mean it the way he sounds, he wants to explain. Because he is happy now: Kira is not a girl and he already has a soul mate and he is in love and he knows to want anything else would be incredibly selfish.

Kira pulls the dish from the sink, letting the water drip before placing it on the rack. He doesn't turn or give indication he understands.

"If I were a girl," his voice startles him, and Athrun nearly drops the glass he is holding. "I wouldn't be me."

Athrun runs a hand through his hair, fingers tangling in the locks and tugging at the ends. He feels slightly upset and more than a little disappointed that maybe Kira does not understand. But then a hand brushes against his arm and he can sense Kira's presence along his back, can feel the weight of his head resting against his shoulder. "But even the way I am now, you're my other half."

Cagalli and Kira are very different people, he admits. And he loves Cagalli.

But maybe he loves Kira too.

* * *

Cagalli never stutters.

Athrun understands her words clearly, watches the stunted emotions dance from her mouth at a sure, solid pace. Cagalli is proud and determined, but there is a growing resentment directed in ways Athrun cannot fathom. Distantly, he wonders if he is being unfair and though she has yet to accuse him of anything, although what she thinks she may need to accuse him of, neither knows, he feels an apology catch and fight for release at the back of his throat.

It is hardly commendable that he can pinpoint the exact moment at which uncertainty begins to linger in Cagalli's smiles; the moment is dwarfed by Kira's presence within his mind, his jagged silhouette straining against her deep-rooted impression. The two hardly eclipse one another, his soul mate and his other half, and yet he can barely keep them apart.

Cagalli is irreplaceable, he wants to assure her, and completely separate from Kira. He thinks of soothing the fears that have nestled in her touches, the doubt that has settled in her eyes when she watches their interactions as if in exile. He knows better than to remain silent, but even though they are meant for each other, she can never understand his thoughts.

Instead, he simply takes her hand. He knows it is not enough to temporarily banish her worries to the far recesses of her mind. So he simply holds on tighter, intertwining their fingers in a bitter parody of their fate.

* * *

Athrun likes to work with Kira, especially late at night when Cagalli's intrusions are unlikely and he can lean close to him without the watchful eyes of Yzak. He feels guilty that he feels this way but then Kira turns to him with a question in his eyes and Athrun does not hesitate to lean even closer, explanation spilling readily from his lips.

It takes them longer to finish the one assignment than it does Athrun to finish his entire workload for the night. Kira is noticeably drained.

"I just don't get it," he groans, irritated. "Why's this so hard for me? And I hate keeping you up too!"

Athrun smiles and reassures him gently, "But I don't mind."

"I know. But that doesn't mean I like to. You're too generous."

The comment surprises him. He does not consider himself generous at all - if anything, he is secretive and closed off and highly selective of whom he allows access to his truest emotions. He opens his mouth to protest, to tell Kira he's not being generous but simply helping a friend in need, but Kira is rising from his seat and stretching sore muscles, back cracking loudly in protest. A moan of contentment escapes his throat.

"I should go…"

Athrun sits on his bed and watches Kira pack, palms suddenly sweaty and heart beginning to palpitate violently within his chest. He swallows roughly. "You don't have to," he doesn't know how else to say it. The slow look Kira gives suddenly makes him feel undeniably vulnerable, completely at this violet-eyed boy's mercy.

Kira sets his bag aside, crouching in the same position for a moment that seems like an eternity to Athrun and when he turns, his heart flutters with that familiar ache, that familiar feeling that makes him burn deep inside. He looks away as the boy approaches slowly, hyper-aware of his presence and the small dip of the mattress as he seats himself beside him. But then Athrun shifts, rests his head against the sharp shoulder, wraps arms loosely around the thin waist. Kira clings to the arms that hold him, fingers tightening almost painfully into his skin when Athrun presses his lips against the sensitive skin of his neck.

Athrun kisses the juncture of his shoulder and neck, kisses along his jaw, kisses his chin, his nose, his eyes – wanting to feel him with his lips, to confirm what it is like to know his face like this. Kira moans softly, falling back gently against the mattress and pulling Athrun with him. Athrun studies the tightened features - eyes that are squeezed shut and breath that comes in shallow gasps. He can see traces of tears welling in the clenched lashes, wanting to escape. He realizes this is the first time he has seen Kira cry and yet, somehow, he knows that he does so all the time.

"Kira."

And Kira let's out a shuddering breath, almost a sob, as he throws his arms in a stranglehold around Athrun's neck, tightening with every passing second as he cries against the body that clings to him gently, wanting to pull him closer and closer. Athrun simply holds him then, content to only feel him in his arms and falls asleep to the muffled erratic breathing and his own aching heart and the burning sensation behind his eyes.

* * *

Athrun often wonders at his utter luck in finding the perfect compliment to his existence. He loves Cagalli and she is everything he will ever need. But he knows now that he is selfish deep down inside and that he will never, ever let Kira go.

**END **

* * *

**AUTHOR QUICKIES: **

**Inspiration:  
**All those lovely individuals who write those absolutely wonderful asukira fics. In the sea of canon worshipers, I'd be lost without those same asukira lovers.

**Random Notes:  
**Even after editing, I know this piece is in dire need of help. I still can't help that I lost interest in the middle of writing and never found it again. I hope this version is more complete than the first, however, with Cagalli's added scene regarding their growing predicament. There's still a lot of background info missing… But I haven't yet figured how to incorporate everything into one piece as none of it warrants another chapter. Also can't think of a decent title...

In response to the anonymous "long live canon" review, even despite the established pairings, I still love asukira. I admit it's hard to see when there's Cagalli, Lacus, that thing with Fray, and the absolutely horrendous GSD debacle, but I'm happy knowing that Athrun obviously has some fairly vague (and therefore easily interpretable in many ways) feelings for his dear friend. Although I can't always justify my analyses, Kira and Athrun obviously really care for each other, regardless of whether that care is merely platonic or extends to love (which could also be platonic, I guess).

This has gotten long again… So, in short, please review! I honestly accept and consider any sort of feedback offered. Thank you!

**Edited: **11/06/2006


End file.
